Harry Potter and the God of Lies
by AlexG
Summary: HPST:TNG Crossover. Harry's 5th year plays out differently from established history when an omnipotent being shows up for some fun. Q from ST:TNG guest stars. Chapter 6 is up!
1. What Would Your Father Say?

**HARRY POTTER AND THE GOD OF LIES**

**CHAPTER 1**

Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Normally one says this about the universe they are writing a story for but, as this is a crossover, I am in the unique and hardly enviable position of saying that neither one of the two brilliant set pieces upon which I have decided to play are my own creation. Nonetheless, I hope you will find the players to be sufficiently like those to which you are accustomed… though I cannot claim perfection in this. And now, if there are no further questions… let the show begin!

**/\**

He raised his voice even louder than it had been a moment ago. "It is not my job to see to your amusement!" The aging, bald man was nearly shouting by now.

"You cause nothing but trouble when you're here, and we've had just about enough of you and you antics," said the one on his right.

"I quite agree," the bald one said, speaking again. "We are not playthings here for your enjoyment, but you play with us as you would a rag doll. Why don't you go torment someone who at least stands a chance against you?"

His first inclination, of course, was to say 'no,' to refuse to leave, and to wipe the smirk off the big grumpy one's face. There was nowhere else to go, no group of these people that he ever had so much fun with.

Or so he thought.

Someone in his brain looked up the history of the planet that he so carefully watched, and found an interesting tidbit that hadn't been properly explored. This one detail, however, could open up pathways to new and exciting things. And, of course, he could dole out some revenge for the poor way he was being welcomed.

So he surprised everyone, and he did what he was told. "Very well," he said. "I'll take leave of you. I've found someone else to pal around with – someone I think will be a great deal more fun… and," he added, getting very close to the bald one and lowering his voice, "I'm sure you're going to love the outcome."

And so he disappeared, heading for better places, for more fun, and he knew just where he was going to find it.

**/\**

Harry Potter, Wizard, 5th year student, and unwitting hero, wasn't happy. He hadn't really been happy at all in the last few months. He'd had a miserable summer at the Dursleys', had nearly been expelled from Hogwarts, and had, most disconcertingly, felt as if his friends (who were close enough to him to be considered family) had abandoned him. They hadn't sent him any news about what was going on in the Wizarding world, and when he'd finally arrived at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix he'd given into all his hurt feelings and shouted at them.

This wasn't the first or the last time he'd done that, either. He and Ron had had a terrible falling out last year, during which they hadn't spoken for several weeks. And just now, provoked by their incessant bickering over lunch, he was on the verge of snapping at Hermione and Ron.

"Oh, shut up, the pair of you! Can't you give it a rest? You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad." He threw down the fork he was eating with, grabbed his bag and stormed away from them.

The anger didn't subside after he'd left… not right away. In fact, in some ways it made him feel good. _Serve them right,_ he thought, _why can't they give it a rest . . . bickering all the time . . . it's enough to drive anyone up the wall . . ._

Yes, it _was_ enough to drive anyone up the wall. He was completely justified, he thought. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts as he climbed towards the North Tower that he didn't notice when the portrait of Sir Cadogan brandished his sword, or when the knight called, "Come back, you scurvy dog! Stand fast and fight!" He didn't even notice when Sir Cadogan attempted to follow him by running into a neighboring picture, and was told off by the person currently occupying it. The Wolfhound that was meant to be in the picture wasn't there, though. The inhabitant was a man dressed in a truly odd way – by both Muggle and Wizard standards (for each group, on their rare encounters, thought the other to be particularly odd dressers). He was wearing a tight suit of all black with red across the shoulders and a blue collar, and he was wearing jewelry. Four gold studs adorned his right collar, and a badge composed of a silver triangle on a gold rectangle was on his left chest.

"Is the cavalry here already?" He asked Cadogan, seated on his pony, as Harry walked by. "Go on, get. I'm busy," he said, making a 'shoo' motion with his hands.

"Stand and face me, thou wretch! I shall rend thee from head to toe! I shall separate thee from thy body! Face me if thou hast any honor whatsoever!"

The stranger turned to Cadogan and, thinking of the grumpy oaf he'd wanted to smite just an hour ago, said, "You remind me of a Klingon I know," he said, "except worse. In fact, I think I'd prefer his company to your incessant rambling."

"I will not be spoken to in that manner, thou impudent-" But he didn't get to finish, because the stranger snapped his fingers in annoyance as he leaned around to watch Harry's retreating back.

Cadogan ripped off his helmet, mumbling, and put his hands to his mouth, where he quickly realized that his mouth was gone. Not sealed shut – completely missing. The stranger, noticing the knight's bulging, fearful eyes and panic-stricken look, said, "Perhaps next time you'll listen to me! Excuse me, I've got business to see to," he said, and disappeared in a flash of light.

Harry climbed up as far as he could, sitting underneath the trapdoor that led to the Divination room. He sat down in the dust, looking forward to twenty minutes or so of being alone, in the quiet, with nobody to bother him. He was still stewing over the angered feelings he had, and going over it again and again in his head wasn't doing anything to make it go away. In fact, he was growing positively enraged when he heard a voice. "Temper, temper, young man. What would your father say?" It seemed to come from all around him. He couldn't find the source, couldn't see who'd said that.

"Hello? Who's there?"

A brilliant flash of white light made him look away for a fraction of a second, and when he returned his gaze to the room there was a man sitting across from him, also on the floor. Harry had his wand out and pointed at the newcomer in an instant. "Who are you?" He asked.

Not replying to Harry's question, the stranger said, "How long ago were your parents killed? Fourteen years ago? And you're still not over it?"

Something about the way he said these things made the question, despite its dark nature, seem almost playful, not offensive. It caught Harry off guard. "Wh- what?"

"That's what all of this really boils down to, isn't it? A terrible tragedy, no doubt about it, but I think it probably plays into your everyday doings more than you let on." He saw the look of confusion on Harry's face, but he did notice that the wand did not track him as fiercely as it had. "Perhaps I should introduce myself," he said, standing up. "My name is Q."

Harry had absolutely no idea what to do or say at this point. A strangely dressed man has just apparated onto the school grounds (a feat which Hermione continually insisted was impossible), displayed a knowledge of Harry's feelings and history, and finally introduced himself as a letter of the alphabet. Even by Hogwarts' standards this was an odd series of events.

"Not very talkative, are you," Q asked him. Harry made to say something else, but only managed to mumble once again when Q said, "Never mind, don't strain yourself. What _is_ this place?" He asked. A somewhat disdainful look crossed his face after he took a sniff of the air. He walked over to an looked out the window, taking in the sight of the turrets and courtyards of the castle.

"T-T-This… i-i-is… uh… that is… school," Harry finally forced the last word out of his mouth, despite a great jumble of confusion in his brain.

"This is a school? It's not what I'd expect from humans. This is almost… acceptable. So wonderfully unpretentious after Picard's sterilized civility." He turned to Harry. "And you… very capable, very good at what you do… and yet with a certain disregard for the rules." Q seemed to be talking to himself, but that changed when he looked Harry right in the eye and said, more loudly than he had been speaking, "I have a feeling that you and I are going to be good friends. I'll be back later," he said, and he snapped his fingers and disapparated.

The bell rang, and Harry climbed up the silver ladder that led to Divination. He took a seat in the back, not caring about the heat or the smell for once. Ron arrived straight away. He looked around the room and, spotting Harry, headed over to his table.

"Hermione and me have stopped arguing," he said, sitting down beside Harry.

"Good, because-"

"But Hermione says she thinks it would be nice if you stopped taking out your temper on us," said Ron.

"Ron, I-"

"I'm just passing on the message," said Ron, talking over him. "But I reckon she's right. It's not our fault how Seamus and Snape treat you."

"You're right, Ron, you're completely right."

"I am?" said Ron, who had been expecting rather more of a fight.

"Yes, you are, but right now you've got to listen to me! Something happened a moment ago…"

"Wait, where is everyone," Ron asked, noticing that only one other student had come up the ladder. "Hey, how long ago did the bell ring," he called over to the newcomer.

"It hasn't… won't ring for another minute yet. I just needed to ask the Professor something before class so I came early."

"That's odd," said Ron, "I would have sworn I heard the bell."

"So did I," Harry said.

"Something odd is happening here…"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, Ron," Harry said. "Something odd _is_ happening. I've just seen-"

Professor Trelawney had begun to pass out books, and when she came by their table, she insisted on some small talk.

"Oh, forget it," Harry said when she walked away, "I'll tell you and Hermione tonight."


	2. Longbottom In Disguise

**HARRY POTTER AND THE GOD OF LIES**

**CHAPTER 2**

/\

The rest of the day passed rather quickly, because Harry spent it in a fog. The events of the morning had taken him completely by surprise. Ron kept on pestering him to say what was the matter, but Harry refused. He couldn't risk anyone overhearing what he had to say – enough of them already thought he was mad. He would tell Ron and Hermione tonight, in the Gryffindor common room, and not a moment before.

Still, he couldn't help dwelling on the mysterious visitor and his words. _What would your father say_, he had asked. Did he know Harry's father? It was possible they'd met at Hogwarts – Harry knew that many grown wizards had known his father in their own school days. He was assuming, of course, that the visitor indeed _was _a wizard, of course, but that seemed to be a fairly safe assumption. Who else could have power like that, to be able to break through the anti-apparating spell on the school grounds?

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he could not read the chapter that Professor Umbridge assigned to him. He stared at the page, not comprehending a single word, and didn't even notice that Hermione had raised her hand until Umbridge called on her.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked

"Not about the chapter, no."

"Well, we're reading just now. If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims," said Hermione.

"And your name is?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully."

"Well, I don't. There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

"Using defensive spells? Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

Professor Umbridge continued her debate with the students for several minutes, each raising valid points – not the least of which was the practical section of the OWLs that they were all dreading. Harry, becoming angrier by the second, threw his fist up in the air. "And what good's theory going to be in the real world?"

Professor Umbridge looked up. "This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world," she said softly.

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting for us out there?"

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."

"Oh, yeah?" said Harry. He felt he could hardly contain his temper anymore.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?"

Harry could feel the rage inside him, fighting to take over. A thousand seething things came into his mind at once. His impulse was to scream, _"Voldemort!" _as if saying it loudly enough and with great enough conviction could make Umbridge and his classmates see reason. _"I suppose Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord." _Yes, that would be good. How would she respond to that? How could she possibly answer that? But then something happened. The conversation he had had before Divination sprang up in his mind again. _What would your father say?_ He didn't know. He had heard from many reliable sources that James Potter was something of a maverick, but would he go so far as to scream such terrible things at a teacher? So, he thought better of himself, and said instead, "Nobody. I think I understand now, professor."

Harry's decision to back down seemed to have taken the fight out of the class. Slowly the rest of the students lowered their hands. Umbridge seemed pleased, and almost surprised by this sudden change. "Well, that's settled, then. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, _Basics for Beginners_."

Hermione wasn't pleased after class. "How could you back down from that awful woman," she asked as they walked to the Great Hall.

"Forget about Umbridge – she's not worth it," Harry said. "I have something else to tell you and Ron."

They ate dinner in silence – Harry had refused to say anything more until they could talk freely. They rushed through dinner and headed back up towards the common room. It was nearly empty when they entered, because most everyone was still down having dinner. Crookshanks stretched out on Hermione's lap as they sat down in a secluded spot away from the fire. "Alright, Harry," she said, lowering her voice as she and Ron leaned in close. "What did you want to tell us?"

"Well... it's..." He paused. He was aware just how crazy this was going to sound.

Hermione saw him staring over her shoulder into space. "What is it? Are you OK?"

"Uh, nothing," he said hastily. "Anyway... you remember when I stormed off during lunch? Well, I was sitting in the North Tower waiting for Divination to start, and this... man apparated in. And don't quote _Hogwarts, A History _at me," he snapped at Hermione, who was starting to open her mouth, "because I know what I saw."

"Was it like a vision?"

"No, he was really there. He stood up, he looked around the grounds, and he spoke directly to me."

"What did he say," Ron asked.

"I heard him before he actually appeared, like he was in my head," Harry said. "I was sitting up there stewing, really... I was angry at you both. I know, I didn't have any right to be," he said, seeing their somewhat hurt faces, "but I was. And I heard him say, 'Temper, temper, young man. What would your father say?' And then he just appeared."

"Was he an okay bloke?"

"Ron!" Hermione squealed.

"I'm not talking about inviting him round to tea," Ron said. "I'm just trying to find out if he might be in league with You-Know-Who."

"The thing is," Harry said, "I'm starting to doubt if he even was a wizard."

"Well, he doesn't sound like any muggle I know," Ron said.

"No, of course he has some magical ability. But, I mean, he didn't act like a wizard. He didn't use a wand. He snapped his fingers every time he used magic. And I've never seen a person Apparate in a flash of light."

"What else did he say?"

"Not much. He looked at the castle through the window, and said he didn't like the smell. I'll bet he was talking about Trelawney's perfume. Anyway, he seemed to be talking to himself, until he looked right at me and said, 'I think you and I are going to be friends.' Then he vanished."

Hermione sat back in her chair, thinking. "This doesn't feel right," she said.

"Well, of course he knows that," Ron said. "What can we do, though?"

Hermione looked around the room, deep in thought, and her eyes came to rest on the Weasley twins surrounded by a group of fainted first years. "Oh, honestly," she said, "can't they take a day off?"

"What?"

"Oh," said Hermione, coming back to the conversation. "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry, but it'd be easier to mull this over without having to watch over all these troublemakers..."

As if in answer to her statement, the Weasleys, Lee Jordan, and the first years disappeared. Hermione jumped up so quickly that Crookshanks fell in a heap at her feet, mewing angrily.

"Oh, no," Ron said. "What have they done now? Vanishing Vittles, maybe?"

"Ron, go get someone," Hermione said. "Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore, anyone!"

"I'll go upstairs and check their trunks for an antidote," Harry said. He was halfway up the stairs when someone knocked on the portrait. He crept back down the stairs, and he and Hermione edged over to the portrait hole, wands at the ready. They pushed it open to find Ron, standing there with a deathly white face.

Hermione said, "Ron! What is it?"

"They're gone," he said. "Everyone's gone. No students, no teachers... even the Fat Lady and the other portraits are empty."

"What's going on here?" Hermione was extremely booksmart, but didn't hold her head well in a crisis. The disappearance of every living thing at Hogwarts apart from she, Ron, Harry, and Crookshanks apparently qualified.

"It's what you wanted, isn't it? No more troublemakers to watch over, no more annoyances..." The voice came from one of the chairs in the common room. Ron and Hermione hurried over to investigate.

Harry had a pretty good idea what was happening, however, and took it as reassurance that at least he was not crazy. When he had walked over and looked at the person sprawled out in the chair, looking nonchalant and relaxed, he said, "Ron, Hermione, this is Q. My visitor."

If Hermione didn't feel right about this visitor before, she now felt completely enraged by his presence. "What have you done with them?"

"I promise you, my dear young lady, that no harm shall come to any of them. Well," he amended, "maybe the ones that were passed out, but you can hardly call that my doing, can you? What kind of operation are you running here?"

Hermione didn't smile at Q's joviality. "Bring them back. Now."

Q looked at her face more closely as if he were scrutinizing a piece of art, yet he spoke about her as if she were not in the room. "Is she always like this?"

"Most of the time, yeah," Ron said.

"Ronald!"

"Well, it's true," he said in a small voice. Ron seemed to be taking what (to Harry at least) seemed a more logical approach than Hermione's, trying not to get on the bad side of this mysteriously powerful visitor.

"You can't keep up like this for long," she said, turning out her full fury on him. "The Ministry will be on to you in moments, and when they catch you they'll throw you in Azkaban!" Q reclined back in his chair and began examining his fingernails as if he were thoroughly bored with this monologue. "And then they shall find even more unpleasant things to do to you until... until... until you've had enough!" Hermione didn't seem to know how to continue if Q wasn't at least going to attempt to defend himself.

Q continued brushing imaginary dust from his hand for a moment, then looked up at Hermione and said, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you'd stopped talking." She made an exasperated sort of sound at the back of her throat, and before she could start on a second tirade Q spoke. "I thought you might be different from other humans," he said, "but I see that some things are universal constants. Your reaction to superior lifeforms is always abysmally disrespectful. If you had even an inkling of the power I hold in the palm of my hand I daresay you'd be a touch more polite."

Hermione seemed about to make another retort, but Harry grabbed her arm and squeezed it to stop her doing something foolish. He said instead, "You're not human, then?" Hermione looked positively shocked – in her anger she had completely missed this clue that Q had put into the conversation.

"Curb your tongue, knave," Q said, as if Harry had said something highly affronting.

"Then you're _not _a wizard," he said. "So then, how -?"

Q rolled his eyes as if he had been answering this question all day. "I suppose we're not going to get anywhere until I regale you with the whole fascinating tale, are we? Fine, then, make yourselves comfortable." There was a flash again, and the three students found themselves in chairs facing Q's. They were wearing their night things, and each had a mug of hot chocolate. Ron sipped at his eagerly. Hermione eyed her mug suspiciously and refused to drink anything from it. Mad-Eye Moody, Harry was sure, would be proud.

"I am a representative of a group of beings," Q said. "We call ourselves the Q."

"I thought that was your name," Ron said.

"Keeping right up with the story as usual, I see," Q said. "Oh, don't look so affronted – that was a derogatory remark about your entire species, not you personally," said Q, as if this was supposed to make anyone feel better. "I spend most of my time watching the little species as they struggle to survive out there. And, unfortunately, this has meant a great deal of time spent with humans."

"What do you have against humans," Harry asked.

"Nothing at all, apart from the fact that you're a dangerous, violent, savage race of people. And, not content with making a mess of your own planet, you've expanded dangerously quickly out among the stars." The three looked at each other quizzically. Q sighed. "In the future, your species has achieved some almost respectable things, not the least of which is travel among the stars. Humans of the future fancy themselves explorers."

Hermione seemed to enjoy this bit of news. She seemed to overlook the way that Q casually dropped humanity of the future into the conversation, suddenly overwhelmed with the idea of so much space to explore, so much knowledge to gain, so many more books to read. It seemed something worthy of the magical community. "So, wizards are accepted in the future?"

Q seemed to enjoy the prospect of bursting this particular bubble. "Actually, all the major achievements in the coming years will be made by... what do you call them? Mufflers? Anyway, technology will advance to a point where they can do nearly anything. In fact I haven't met a single human like any of you in the entire time I've been visiting them. I had hoped that, with the power you command, you might be a little more evolved than your future counterparts... but I see I was mistaken. Nevertheless," he said, standing, "I think there's still some fun to be had here. I may just stick around for a time, although watching from afar grows so tiresome. Hmm..."

The door to the boys' dormitories opened, and Neville came down the stairs. He took one look at the scene played out below him and fainted, falling down the last few stairs.

"Neville!" Hermione ran over to him to make sure he was alright.

"He'll do," Q said, and with a snap he was gone. Ron and Harry stood up, largely because their chairs had disappeared. They ran over to Neville and Hermione, just as she was using a spell to revive him.

Neville wasn't Neville, though. He was Q. He was Q with Neville's messy hair, Neville's large front teeth, and Neville's Hogwarts robes. "An inside look," he said, as he stood. "This is going to be fun." And he snapped his fingers. The residents of the common room returned, none the wiser that something extraordinary had just occurred.

"You don't look a thing like Neville," Hermione whispered. "You'll be caught," she said in a somewhat premature 'I-told-you-so' sort of voice.

Q stood up. He was his regular height and everything. He strode over to the group and said, "I'm off to bed, all. Pleasant dreams." He made a show of stretching and yawning, and then headed back for the dormitories. "You see, you're the only ones who see me for who I truly am," said Q in a hushed voice. "I do promise you, though," he said, turning around half way up the stairs, "this will be the most interesting year you have here."

_After the events of last year_, Harry thought, _I hope he that turns out to be an empty promise._


	3. A Vision of the Past

**HARRY POTTER AND THE GOD OF LIES**

**CHAPTER 3**

/\

Harry and Ron hurried up after Q. They passed Seamus, who seemed like he was about to say something, but there wasn't time to talk now. They burst into the dormitory to find Q already in Neville's bed, yawning exaggeratedly.

"Goodnight you two," he said, and he promptly pulled the bedclothes up over his head. Harry pulled them back down.

"You can't do this," he said.

"I have done it," Q replied, and there was a hint of menace in his voice.

"Where's Neville," Ron asked him.

"I've made sure he's quite safe," Q said. "I promise you, not one hair on his precious head will be displaced. Of that you have my word."

"You word doesn't mean much," Ron said. "You seem like the kind of bloke that can't be trusted."

"Well, that's your problem, isn't it? I have no intention of going anywhere, and you haven't the power to send me."

"You can be overcome. Hogwarts' headmaster is one of the most powerful wizards in history," Harry said. His displeasure with Dumbledore was starting to wane. In fact, most of his thoughts and emotions had radically changed from what they had been at the beginning of the term. In the past few hours, he had not even given any thought to Voldemort's renewed quest for power. That hadn't happened for months now.

"Yes, yes," Q said, sounding impatient, "your annoying little bumblebee. He buzzes around getting you out of situations which, by all rights, should have killed you. I understand your admiration, young Potter, I really do. But tell me, does any wizard you know have unlimited control of space, matter, and time?"

Harry was going to lie, but it seemed rather pointless at this juncture. "No," he said flatly.

"I'll let you draw your own conclusions, then," he said. "You're brighter than Picard, so I don't think I need to hold your hand through all this. And now, I do think we should be getting to sleep."

The next thing Harry knew he was in bed, under the covers. The moon was full outside the window and the torches had been extinguished. Several hours seemed to have passed in an instant. He looked up and saw Ron sitting up in bed, apparently suffering from the same shift. Ron looked like he was about to get up and confront Q again, but Harry shook his head no at him. "We'll wake the others," he whispered, pointing at the 2 other beds which were now occupied. "It can wait until morning." He drew the curtains of his four-poster, and lay down, but he did not sleep.

/\

By this point several events which, by all rights, should have happened had failed to due to Q's influence on events. Harry had failed to get on professor Umbridge's bad said, and he did not get any detentions from her. Indeed, he had made a favorable impression upon her – she came to think of him as a young man who could be persuaded by rational argument. Hermione had failed to threaten to write to the Weasley twins' mother if they continued testing their joke shop materials on the first years, and Ron had failed to unearth her plot to free the house elves with her knitted hats and socks. And, considering this was the state of affairs, Ron and Harry were both very confused when Hermione poured herself a cup of coffee and smiled at some private amusement.

"What are you so happy about," Ron asked.

"Oh, nothing important," she said. Ron pestered her about it for most of the morning, but she refused to tell him what she was up to.

The trio had forgotten about the events in the school and the wizarding world. For once they seemed unimportant. Voldemort had been a great concern only yesterday at this time – they had been constantly worried about his attacks and defending themselves from them. Once you got used to the idea that there existed a being who could wipe the entire world away with nary a thought, however, and that there was no way to defend yourself against his power anyway, life became eerily easy to get on with. Even professor McGonagall's speech about the difficulty of the upcoming OWLs didn't faze them as much as it had before.

"You cannot pass an OWL without serious application, practice and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an OWL in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work." She cast a glance in Q's direction, apparently only seeing Neville sitting there. "You too, Longbottom. There's nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence."

"Oh, I doubt that will be a problem any longer," he said to her. She eyed him somewhat skeptically, but continued.

"Today we will be starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until NEWT level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your OWL."

She passed out snails and stood at the front of the room, watching them work. As soon as she called for the students to begin work, Q lightly tapped his snail with Neville's wand, and it disappeared.

Harry had never seen professor McGonagall truly surprised before; she usually carried a calm about her that was nearly impenetrable. So, considering this, Harry was amazed and amused to see how close her eyes came to leaving their sockets.

"Mr... Longbottom..."

"Impressive, isn't it?" He was overly smug but McGonnagall didn't notice. "You know sometimes I amaze even me."

"Twenty points to Gryffindor," McGonagall said, still clearly flabbergasted.

"Thank you, professor," he said. "Without you where _would_ I be?" Harry thought he had a pretty good idea where Q thought he would be, and that it didn't match up with what professor McGonagall thought.

She was so pleased with this surprise performance that she didn't give any homework, which came as a pleasant surprise to Harry and Ron. Their homework pile was mounting ever higher, and it didn't please them very much to think how far behind they were getting, although Hermione proved extremely helpful in looking up the uses of moonstones over lunch.

Care of Magical Creatures was being taught by professor Grubbly Plank once again. She explained all about Bowtruckles and their uses, but Harry wasn't really paying attention. He was starting to get concerned about where Hagrid had gone off too, and when he might be back. Grubbly Plank refused to answer any of his questions, as usual, but Malfoy leaned in close to him an said, "Maybe the stupid great oaf's got himself badly injured."

"Maybe you will if you don't shut up."

"Maybe he's been messing with stuff that's too_big_ for him, if you get my drift."

Q (or Neville, so far as Malfoy was concerned) came up behind them and clapped a hand on each of their shoulders. "Now, now, good sirs," he said, "wouldn't the world be better if we just got along?"

"Oh, shut up, Longbottom," Malfoy said, and pushed away from them. Harry and Q were left standing somewhat apart from the other students. Q stood somewhat behind Harry and whispered somewhat softly in his ear. The effect was utterly menacing.

"My, my, he's a feisty one, isn't he?"

"He knows something about Hagrid," Harry said.

"Yes, he does." Harry looked back at Q with a quizzical look on his face. He had expected argument or debate, but Q had simply made the statement as if he had been stating that the sky is blue or the grass green. "What? What part of omniscient don't you understand?"

"Well, what is it, then?"

"My dear boy, you wouldn't want me to spoil the end of the novel for you, now would you?"

"I'll see the movie," Harry said.

"Nice try, _mon ami_," Q said, and vanished. Nobody else seemed to notice he was gone. That was probably why he had picked Neville, Harry thought. Nobody noticed whether Neville was around or not anyway.

As they reached the entrance to the Great Hall after the lesson, they passed Angelina Johnson. "Hey, Potter!" she said. "Don't forget about keeper tryouts on Friday."

"Looking forward to it," he said.

Dinner was somewhat stilted, however, due to the mountain of homework that was waiting for he and Ron when they got back to the common room. It was an insurmountable task… at least, they thought it was, until they arrived back in the common room. They pulled out parchment to write Snape's moonstone essay and found that it was mysteriously completed. Hermione nearly lost her mind, and voiced her frustrations at Q when he came and joined their circle.

"You can't just do our homework for us," she said. "We won't learn a thing!"

"But the less time you spend on it, the more _fun_ we can have together."

"Is that all you care about? Having fun?"

"Mainly, yes."

"Well, I, for one, am not going to take advantage of the situation. I'll do my own work anyway. And they will, too," she said, gesturing towards Ron and Harry, and then looking at them with a piercing stare. "Won't you?" Her tone made it clear it was not a question, but Harry and Ron were reluctant. A year without homework was a mighty tempting offer.

Hermione saw their faces and became very grumpy. She took a quill and parchment and began to write. Or rather she moved her quill across the paper, but the tip broke. She took another, and its tip broke, too. The same thing happened to a third, fourth, and fifth. Undaunted, and seemingly having an unlimited supply of quills, she took a sixth out. The ink she wrote with disappeared as she got to the end of each line. She took out her wand and tried a spell on the paper, but to no avail.

Q hadn't moved at all, but his face wore an expression of quiet bemusement. She glowered at him, then picked up the quill again. She finished an entire paragraph this time before the ink turned red. It began to flicker, as if it was on fire. She, Harry, and Ron quickly realized that it in fact _was_ on fire. The whole sheet wasn't burning, merely the letters. The flames died away and left holes burned in the parchment. She was reaching for a new piece when Ron finally grabbed her arm. "Hermione, enough!"

She stared him down, but he was determined. "I'm tired of being interfered with."

"There doesn't seem to be much you can do about it, so why don't you try not to get on his bad side? I bet it's a nasty one."

"Oh, well said," Q piped up. "You'd do well to listen to this one, so deep is his fount of knowledge." There was sarcasm in his tone. "Do you always point out the mind-bendingly obvious or is it just a special skill that you trot out at parties like this one?"

Ron didn't seem particularly amused by this comment, but he maintained his calm remarkably well. "I'm just trying to keep her safe from you," he said.

Q looked bored. "You do realize how madly in love with you he is, don't you?" he asked Hermione.

Ron managed a look of complete shock the likes of which Harry had never seen. It was precisely the expression one could expect to see on a person whose inmost thoughts about someone had been revealed by an omnipotent being to the someone that the thoughts were about. Of course, Harry had known for some time how Ron felt about Hermione; in fact, if one were brutally honest, any being with the ability to think and draw any conclusions based on available data at all probably knew how Ron felt. The only two people who didn't seem to know how Ron and Hermione felt were Ron and Hermione themselves. There was no potential couple in the world that put more time or effort into being uncomfortable with each other. Nonetheless, it was still extremely inconsiderate to relay Ron's feelings without his consent.

Q picked up on the tension immediately. "Oh, you _didn't_ know. Well, I may as well tell you that she's just as crazy about you as you are about her. You know, if that helps at all." Q said this in exactly the right tone to indicate that he knew this would not help at all, but rather make the situation more unpleasant. Suddenly, Harry desperately wanted to leave the two of them alone. At least, that was the noble sentiment he tried to convince himself he was feeling. Really, he just wanted to leave at this point.

"Oh what a tangled web we weave. You know, it's really embarrassing to be surrounded by so much dishonesty," Q said. "I really can't tell if it's just a part of being young, or just a part of being a lesser species. I wonder if you could even survive as a culture if you couldn't lie. No, I think if you actually had to be honest with each other your planet would have annihilated itself eons ago."

Ron was looking very uncomfortable, and he mumbled, "I think I fancy a bit of a walk." He was up and gone before anyone could say anything, and Q had taken his chair.

"Well," Q said, as if unaware that he had just done something extremely off-putting, "that's one less person to keep track of. What shall we do now?"

"Q," Harry said, "don't you think the mood's a little… off?"

"Nonsense! The night is young, my friends, and there's so much the universe has to offer. What'll it be? Hoverball on Risa? We could watch the Sky Divers on Tagus III, or I could even be persuaded to take a trip to the _Enterprise_. That'd wipe the smile off Picard's face."

"Who is Picard? You keep talking about him."

"Picard is the captain of one of the starships I told you about. He and I are… buddies."

"I think I'll go to bed," Hermione said. Since she had no homework to do, she had started work on another elf hat. It was now nearly complete, and Q was looking at it with the same grim fascination that nearly _everyone_ who looked at Hermione's elf hats looked at them with.

"Oh, dear," he said. "That's rather unfortunate, isn't it?"

"What is," Hermione asked.

"Well, that some poor animal gave its wool so that this… _thing_ could be made… it's not exactly a happy thought, is it? I'm sure the poor creature would probably demand its skin back if it knew what you were up to. Now, this little model," he said, pulling a wool hat out of thin air, "this is what's really in vogue these days. The ear flaps are a particularly strong selling point. These would be flying off the shelves."

"I'd rather they flew off the bookcases and tables," Hermione said. "The hats are for the house elves. They're slaves."

"Well, then, don't you think they've suffered enough without the hats?"

"Yes," Hermione said, "I'm definitely going to bed." And she left for the girls' dormitories, not even bothering to stop the knitting needles. They continued to work in front of Hermione's chair, not even abandoning their repetitive motion when the yarn ran out.

"Just us two now, _mon ami_," Q said. "What shall we do to occupy our time?"

Harry was about to protest, and say he was going to bed, but the idea of going around with Q was appealing. There were so many questions he still had, and having time to think during the past few hours had brought some of them back to mind. As usually happened when he allowed his mind to go over the events of the last few days, his first meeting with Q came to his thoughts again.

"Q, when you first showed up here… you asked me what my dad would say about my temper. Well…" he looked down at his feet, somewhat embarrassed to be bringing this up, and said, "well, what _would_ he have said? I didn't ever know him, or my mum."

Q seemed to take pity on him, but his face still had a mischievous smirk on it. "Would you like to see your parents?"

"I've seen them before," he said. "In photographs and the mirror of-"

"No, no, no. I don't mean illusions and shadows of them. I'm asking you if you want to actually _see _them."

Harry was shocked. Was this really possible? Surely it was too good to be true, but he had to try it. "Y-yes," he stammered. "How?"

Q snapped his fingers and, in an instant, Harry was standing on a doorstep in a neighborhood he had no memory of ever visiting, but which somehow seemed familiar. He guessed that he was following a memory, as he had done a few times before – in Tom Riddle's diary and Dumbledore's Pensieve. He wasn't sure whose memory it could be, but he forgot about this train of thought when he heard a familiar voice. "Coming," it called from behind the door. The voice was etched deeply into his brain. The last time he had heard it had been under the influence of the Dementors. He was hearing the voice of his mother.

He stepped aside as the door opened, waiting for something to happen, for someone to enter. His mother was silent a moment, and she looked right at him. "Well, are you coming in or not?"

"You… can see me? You know me?"

She grabbed ahold of his hand and, smiling, said, "Get in here, you goof!"

He came into the house and looked around. So this was it. His home. This was where he should have grown up, should have lived. Where he should have been a little boy.

She looked at him and his reaction to the place, and said, "Are you alright? You seem… off somehow."

"No, I'm fine," he said. "I'm better than fine, in fact."

"Well, good. Now, sit down, and I'll make a pot of Earl Grey." She walked into the kitchen, and called down the hall, "James! Peter's here!"

That was odd. Very odd. He got up, and followed her into the kitchen. "Did you call me Peter?"

Lily looked at him with real concern now. "Peter, are you alright? You're acting very strangely."

"Peter! My name's not Peter, and you well know it. I'm Harry. Your son!" Didn't she see?

There was an exasperated sigh from behind him, and Lily froze in place. Q moved into Harry's field of view. "Are you trying to be thick, or does it just come naturally?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Apparently you really can't string a few facts together and draw a conclusion without my help," Q said. "Very well. I promised to show you your parents how they really were, and let you meet them. This isn't a moving image or an echo of the past. I've transported us, at great personal difficulty mind you, back in time and space to a point when your parents were alive. And since I can hardly let you show up proclaiming to be their son who they know for a fact is asleep in his crib, I've let you take on the form of Peter Pettigrew. So far as they or anyone else knows, you are Peter, and you'll have a devil of a time convincing anyone otherwise. Now, as I mentioned, it took considerable effort to make this happen so you'd better not mess it up. And don't go trying to warn anyone about what the future holds. It's quite a mess and I don't want to have to clear it up. Now, try again, and be a little more discreet this time."

Harry looked at his reflection in the window. "I don't look much different," he said.

"I've taken _care_ of it. Now, just try not to screw things up."

Harry found himself back in the living room, watching Lily leave and call, "James! Peter's here!"

This time he kept his seat, and his father entered the room. "Peter! So good to see you again," James said.

"You too," Harry said. He wasn't sure how to act; he'd only spoken to Peter Pettigrew for a few minutes, and he had just come off of being a rat for the past fourteen years at the time. Chances were pretty good that he wasn't acting much like the person his parents knew at the time. He decided to speak as little as possible; he didn't want to make a flub.

Of course, his overwhelming desire was to spill everything, and warn his parents what was to come, but somehow he didn't think Q would let him. So instead he sat in the living room, and sipped Earl Grey tea, and listened to his parents talk. It took all his restraint not to squeeze his beaker to the shattering point when the Potters thanked him for becoming their Secret Keeper at Sirius' behest.

"Oh!" Lily suddenly jumped up. "You must come in and see Harry. He's grown so much since the last time you were here!" And she grabbed him by the hand and took him in to his bedroom.

There are precious few sensations that are as odd as looking at yourself as an infant sleeping in a crib with full knowledge of the life that awaits you. Harry was surprised to see how big the child was despite his young age. Harry realized that his parents didn't have long left. In fact, deep down in the pit of his stomach, he knew, just _knew _that Q had brought him to the very night that his parents would die at Voldemort's hand. Peter Pettigrew would probably leave here tonight and betray them to Voldemort, and then they would die.

He looked down at the sleeping infant, and brushed his hair aside. There was no scar on the forehead, but there would be soon.

"Sad, isn't it?" Harry heard Q, could feel him standing there behind him. "The only thing harder than having things bad yourself is seeing someone else going into an event that will change their life for the worst. But then, I guess you've got the best of both worlds in this situation, haven't you?"

Harry didn't respond to Q. He spoke to the infant. "Hey, there, little guy," he said. "You're gonna do amazing things in life, you know." He turned to his parents. "And he's going to love you… both of you… _so_ much. Just promise me… promise me you'll pick him up tonight, and hold him just as tight as you can. And tell him how much you love him." Harry turned back to the crib, and leaned over it again. He got so close to the baby's ear that nobody else in the room could hear what he said. "Dudley will leave you alone if you tell him how big his nose is," he said. "And don't worry about Ron and Hermione. They'll fight like cats and dogs but it's only because they love each other so much."

Q had come around the other side of the crib, and was also leaning over it. "I think I may cry. Really I do," he said. He didn't sound like he meant it.

The baby opened his eyes, not at the sound of Harry's voice, but of Q's. He lay on his back, and looked up at both of them. He regarded Q with a strange look, as if looking into the man's eyes he had some inkling of the power that was behind them. And when he looked at Harry, his face took on an odd expression. It was if he were thinking, 'Hey! I know you!'

"I can't watch anymore, Q," Harry said. And suddenly he was in the corner of the room, while Wormtail got up from his crouched position by the crib and said, quite suddenly, that he had to go. Had to go, and betray the Potters. Had to go and make sure that Harry never had a chance at a normal life. "Please, can't we go?"

"Just a moment, I need to see to something," Q said. Time seemed to pass quickly again, just as it had last night, because suddenly there was a clamor in the house. Harry heard his father's screams to his wife to get away. He didn't want to watch this, but somehow he couldn't take his eyes away. So he continued to gaze on as his mother came into the room and stood in front of the crib. She barred the door as best she could and looked down at her son in the crib. She scooped him up and hugged him tight. "I love you, Harry," she said.

"I love you too, mum," Harry choked out, unseen and unheard, in the corner.

Then she put him down, and took up her wand. Voldemort's _Alohamora_ sent the door blasting open, and his mother began to plead with him. Harry was waiting for what he knew would come – her sacrifice on his behalf that would nearly defeat Voldemort. But it didn't seem to be coming. She was pleading, yes, but not for Harry. She seemed more like she was stalling for time, trying to wait to get an in against the Dark Wizard. Harry knew it wouldn't be coming.

Then something unexpected happened. Q left Harry's side and walked over to his mother. He leaned in close in that way he had done with Harry several times and whispered in her ear. Then he walked back towards Harry's corner and made himself comfortable by sitting on the changing table. At Harry's questioning look, he said, "Never you mind. Someone has to keep the timeline running the right way."

The fight, if it could be called that, was over in a few seconds. The house was a ruin around them. The changing table was about all that had been salvaged, and probably only because it was Q's sitting place. He jumped off it and walked over to the now unconscious infant. He looked at the scar on the forehead. "Not very becoming, is it?"

"It's a bit of a hassle, too," Harry said. It was shallow and superficial considering what he had just witness, but that was all he felt he was capable of at the moment. "People always gawking at it, asking you personal questions…"

"Oh, I know exactly what you mean. It's the same with me, you know. Everywhere I go, somebody wants something. And it's not just immortality or power, no. People asking the meaning of life, and if I floss my teeth or not."

"Why do they-?"

"If you knew an omnipotent being didn't floss, wouldn't you feel better about not doing it?"

This didn't make any sense, and Harry wasn't in the room. "Please, let's go," he said.

The next thing he knew he was waking up in his bed in the dormitories. He wished the events of the last evening had just been a dream, but he knew better. Sometimes, though, ignorance was better.


	4. Rookie of the Year

**HARRY POTTER AND THE GOD OF LIES**

**CHAPTER 4**

/\

Harry spent the next few days in a trance. He was feeling so many conflicting emotions… anger, depression, and discomfort. But most of all…

Most of all he felt guilty. All his life he'd wanted to meet his parents, wanted to know what they were like. And not to hear it from friends and people who only wanted to share the good memories, but to really, actually know them. And he'd gotten the chance a few nights ago. But when Q had sent him back to that place and time, and he had seen how happy they were and how much they'd cared for him, all he'd wanted to do was leave.

In some ways it was because the situation had been so horrible… he was entirely within his rights not to feel happy watching his parents die. But it wasn't just the discomfort from the events playing out before his eyes that had bothered him. He had looked right at his parents, stared right into his mother's eyes, and realized that he did not want to spend time with them. Maybe they hadn't lived up to the expectations he had in his head because of all the things he had heard about them from others. But really, if he was honest, it was because he didn't want to be around them when they were so close to the ends of their lives. It was the same selfish feeling one often has around a terminally ill loved one; unable to bear to see them like that, one often avoids them in their final moments.

Harry didn't tell Ron and Hermione about what had happened that night after they went to bed. He didn't want to think about it again himself, let alone hash through it again with someone else. Besides, Ron and Hermione were far too busy being uncomfortable with one another to take much notice of him anyway. The had skittered around getting together for quite a long time now, but were both too proud, or perhaps too embarrassed, to admit their feelings for one another, so instead they had let little things come between them – from dates to a dance, to alternate relationships, to flat-out rejection, to lies, and finally back around to alternate relationships again. It seemed that, in their eyes, it was easier to find someone else to date (and then flaunt the relationship in the other's face) than to just get together. The effect was, simultaneously, utterly frustrating and sickening to anyone in the immediate area.

Harry was, despite the depressing undertone of the trip to the past, starting to like Q. Q was, he had to admit, very much like him, except with less inhibition. There had been several times when Harry, too, had wanted to confront Ron and Hermione about their off-again-off-again relationship, but he had always held back. Q didn't hold back about anything, and though he was obligated to appear affronted about it, he secretly admired the being's sheer tenacity and force of will. Nobody told Q what to do or how to behave, and if they did, Q ignored them.

Which wasn't to say, of course, that what he did was always right. Most of the things Q did were horribly offensive, and were likely to get a lesser being into trouble. And then, of course, there were the things Q did just for fun; the random occurrences that couldn't be chalked up to anything apart from a good, healthy sense of fun. For example, Harry had once entered the dormitory to find it completely decked out in tropical décor. Palm trees and steel drum music had permeated the air, and when questioned as to why, Q had only said that the rainy weather outside was getting him down. Harry had asked why he didn't just make the rain go away, and Q had told him that, "If he was looking for any of his beeswax, it wasn't over here." That didn't make any sense to Harry, but nonetheless he had dropped the topic.

It seemed that nobody else was aware of Q's activities in the school, either, because his bunkmates didn't say a word about the room's redecoration (except for Ron, who had merely looked at Harry and rolled his eyes). Seamus Finnegan had seemed to be on the verge of noticing something was up when a large parrot had nibbled on his ear, but he'd just scratched the lobe where it had been chewed and went back to his reading.

Finally the weekend had arrived. The evenings had passed surprisingly quickly, considering that he never had any homework anymore. At the very least he felt that his stress level was starting to dissipate, and that was a nice feeling. Nice was an understatement, in fact – it was bloody brilliant. Hermione even seemed to be enjoying the break, despite her very verbal protestations. Q had continued to see to it that she didn't do any homework, even if she hid herself away in the girls' dormitories to sneak some past him. When she tried to open her textbooks, she found that they were mysteriously fastened shut. All her efforts to open them failed. After a few days even she had given up. Q had seemed marginally disappointed that she didn't intend to fight back anymore.

"Growing tired of our game already?" He asked her.

"I can't beat you at it, can I? It's only logical to save my efforts."

"You remind me of a Vulcan I know," Q had told her. Hermione had chosen to simply take this as a compliment rather than follow the line of questioning any farther.

So, despite the lack of work in the evenings, Harry was still glad when the weekend arrived. And more important than the weekend proper was the prospect of Keeper tryouts on Friday evening. Q noticed his excitement, and asked him what he was looking so pleased about.

"Oh, Quidditch practice tonight," he said. "I love Quidditch."

"What on Earth are you talking about?"

"Quidditch is a game played on broomsticks," Harry said, and he told Q all about it.

"What a fascinating game," Q said. "Excuse me, I have some things to attend to," he said, and headed for the dormitories.

Harry walked out onto the Quidditch field, and went into the changing tent with the rest of the team. Alicia talked about what she hoped to see in a new seeker. The team agreed on the specific needs that the new player would have to fulfill, and headed out to the pitch where the applicants were waiting.

Harry was surprised by two of the people he saw there, but he knew immediately that the tryouts were basically over. Oh, they'd let everyone have a go, but the decision was, so far as Harry was concerned, made. He wasn't going to vote for Ron, one of the surprise applicants. He would look like he was showing favoritism if he did that, because Ron (as well as everyone else) was about to be horribly outshined. The other surprise entrant was Q.

The crowd had gotten quite silent as they looked at Q. For a moment, Harry thought that Q had let his guard down, and the others were seeing him as he really was – a man who was obviously much older than the standard student. But then he realized the more likely scenario – the players were all staring at Neville Longbottom, who in their eyes was standing proudly on the pitch, broomstick in hand. He had the kind of stance that, in most people, would have evoked respect and even a bit of fear. It was almost comical to look at him standing in that macho way. With the right boots he could have been marching into Poland. As it was, however, the view of Neville Longbottom standing there, with his hair all a mess and his teeth sticking out somewhat, was serving only to drive many of the crowd to sniggering. Well, they'd be surprised, then, Harry thought, because Neville was about to become something of a famous person at the school – probably the best Keeper that Hogwarts had ever seen. Of course, none of the other Keepers in Hogwarts' history had been able to control matter with just the force of their own will, so it wasn't really a fair comparison, but Harry knew that would hardly factor into popular opinion on the matter.

Alicia, bless her, tried to give 'Neville' an out. She saved him until last, and continued to drop hints that perhaps this wasn't a great choice for him to make. After every attempt that was made, she would say something to the effect of, "That was a great round. It's going to be rather hard to compete with that. There's no shame if any of you want to back out." And, at this point in her speech, she would look directly at Q.

Q would return the look right back at her and say, "I suppose not, but there's something to be said for those of us who are really tough enough to stick it out, isn't there?"

Ron went up for his turn and missed three of the seven shots that were sent his direction. Harry presumed that Ron was nervous because Q was there, and he thus knew he had no real chance. He was half right – he had no way to know that Ron would have been almost as nervous even if Q hadn't shown up at all.

Finally it was Q's turn. He soared up into the air and assumed the position in front of the goal hoops. The laughter slowly died away and gave way to stunned silence as 'Neville Longbottom' played, quite possibly, the best game of Quidditch in history. The other members of the team had gotten very excited. They kept throwing the ball at him, and he continued to deflect them. As the Quaffle was about to be thrown for the tenth time, Alicia stopped the tryout with a blow of her whistle. "Well, I think that's pretty well solved it," she said, and everyone, even the initial competitors, ran to congratulate 'Neville.' None of them seemed to be sure how or why his dork factor had zeroed out, but they didn't seem to care.

They carried him back to the castle, and all the while he faux-protested in a smug voice, "Oh, really, this isn't necessary. I'm sure _all _of you could have done it if the situation were right."

_Yeah_, thought Harry, catching Q's eye right at the moment, _and when is the situation _not _right when you've got that kind of power?_

But suddenly Quidditch wasn't important anymore, because Harry's head felt like it had been repeatedly attacked by a hacksaw. He looked right back up into Q's eyes, and the pain intensified. He felt as if he were going to be sick. Fortunately the mob that was carrying Q away had moved on, and nobody really noticed that he had fallen behind. He stayed on the pitch and fell to his knees. He laid his head down on the cool grass, and let the pain slowly recede. The agony was about all he could bear. Finally, he didn't know how much later, the pain subsided and he got up and headed for the castle.

The celebratory party in the Gryffindor common room was, quite possibly, the loudest and most raucous event in the entire history of the school. Getting a new house player was an exciting event; finding out that Neville Longbottom was a Quidditch Star was a paradigm shift. Everyone was cheering Q on. Many people were fawning over him. It was a shame, Harry thought, that Neville couldn't be here for all this. It was just the kind of thing that would boost his rather low self esteem.

Of course, Q's self esteem didn't need even a little bit of boosting. He was entirely smug and not at all surprised by the way his performance had been received. He continued to eat up the praise, and he shot an extremely wide grin at Harry when he walked through the portrait hole into the barely contained chaos.

There was one rather subdued group in the room, however, and it was well removed from the rest of the party. Harry spotted Ron and Hermione sitting together in the corner of the room. For a moment he thought he would steer clear of them, because they seemed to be talking for the first time in a long time about something that wasn't completely superficial. However, he had to tell them about his scar. The agony had been terrible, and it would feel better to let them know what was going on, even if they couldn't help.

"Can you believe that great git?" Ron was clearly upset about losing the keeper position. Harry realized that he had probably been planning this ever since he got his prefect's badge back in the Burrow and asked Mrs. Weasley for a broomstick. All his plans had probably been for naught now.

"I wish he'd stop interfering with things around here," Hermione said. "I've half a mind to tell Dumbledore."

"As if that'd do any good," Harry said. "I doubt even Dumbledore would believe a story like this one. And even if he did, Q would probably just erase his memory of it or something."

Ron, despite being upset at Q for getting on the team, was still sticking to his strategy of not making the all-powerful being angry. "I don't think even Dumbledore could do anything about this guy," he said. "I mean, Q isn't magical. Q just has… power."

Hermione shook her head dejectedly. "I know, I know. It won't work. We may as well continue to keep this between us. I don't want anyone to think we've gone mad."

The conversation lulled, and Harry took the opportunity to introduce a new topic. "My scar hurt again," he said simply. "Really badly. I don't think it's even been this bad before. And it happened right when I made eye contact with Q."

"We wondered where you got to," Ron said. "What do you think it means?"

"Do you think You-Know-Who could be controlling him," Hermione asked.

"Not him. Anyone but him."

"I don't know," she said. "I mean, if he let his guard down, You-Know-Who could have sneaked up on him…"

"But why? Nobody but us knows who he is, remember? All the rest of the world sees when they look at him is Neville."

"Well then," Ron said, "maybe he's been with You-Know-Who the whole time. Maybe he's not who he says he is."

"Oh, you've seen his power," Hermione replied. "Time, matter, apparition, disapparation, and even attitudes… he's got control over all of it. And he does it all without a wand. Anyone with that much power wouldn't be working for Voldemort… Voldemort would be working for him."

"Dumbledore said that I might have trouble with my scar based on what Voldemort's feeling, too. Maybe it was just a coincidence."

"I think you should tell Dumbledore what happened. Not everything, I mean, just the scar," Hermione said.

"Me, too," Ron said.

"Right. God knows that's all I matter to Dumbledore for."

"Harry! Don't say that!"

"I though you were over being angry with him," Ron said.

"I was, but now… I don't know. I just keep stewing it over. It's like he won't even speak to me anymore. Like I don't even matter to him anymore."

"But it's something more than that, isn't it?" None of them had noticed Q moving up behind Harry's chair, but now that he spoke they all turned to him.

"What do you mean," Ron asked him.

"Your friend here would have you believe – maybe would even have himself believe – that he's merely being angsty and unpleasant. Perhaps it's all those raging hormones young humans tend to deal with, or a rebellion against authority, or maybe he's just an unpleasant person. But I think that if he's really honest, he'll have to admit there's something more."

Harry hadn't ever given it thought because, as Q had said (though more bluntly than Harry had thought it), he hadn't really wanted to. He was happy to be angry. It didn't bother him. In some ways it felt good to get so worked up about Dumbledore.

"Yes, there it is again, isn't it? It's that bubbling, seething hatred. Buried deep down, of course, but it's there, like a caged monster just waiting for the chance to run free."

"Harry…" Hermione trailed off, as if she were simultaneously confused about and afraid of what she was hearing.

"It's true," he said. It was as if Q had revealed something to him, but really it was there all along. He'd just never taken the time to think about it. "I don't know why, but what Q says is right. There's a seething kind of… of hate… just below the surface."

"Think now," Q said. "Where did it come from?"

Harry only had to think a moment. "Voldemort?"

"There, there, little man," Q said, patting Harry on the head. "I knew you were brighter than most of your species." And he vanished, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione utterly confused and very frightened.


	5. Harry's Most Confusing Lesson Yet

**HARRY POTTER AND THE GOD OF LIES**

**CHAPTER 5**

/\

"Is he right, Harry? Is that how you really feel?"

"I don't know, Ron," Harry said. "It's like I just… It's a… I can't even put it into words."

"It's alright," Hermione said.

"No, it's not! It's not supposed to be like this. It isn't supposed to be this hard! You don't know how it is, really. When… when I was growing up with the Dursleys, I got tired of it all. I was really starting to feel like I couldn't take it anymore… and then here came Hagrid. He just shows up one day, and he tells me I'm a wizard, and that there's a whole new world that I've never even heard of. And, for the first time in my life, I was really happy. But now here I am, and the world just keeps crashing down on me. And now I find out that Voldemort, not content with coming back from the dead, with killing my parents, and with trying to kill me, now he's even in my head, making me hate Dumbledore. It's not right! Oh, I'm going to bed."

He stormed up the stairs and dived into bed before Q could make conversation with him. Within a few minutes he was fitfully asleep. He dreamed the same dream he had been having for a long time now – the one where he was trying to get through a locked door. He wasn't able to move it, and was turning away when he saw Q. He couldn't believe he was dreaming about Q now.

"You're not dreaming me," Q said. It was as if he were reading Harry's thoughts. Then Harry realized that reading his thoughts was probably _exactly _what Q was doing, and so he shouldn't really be surprised. "If you won't talk to me out there then I'm going to come in here. Either way, _mon ami_, I will be heard."

"Oh, is everything always about you?"

"Yes, absolutely. The Universe revolves around me… it just doesn't know it yet."

"Well, you're the last person I want to see about now. You're full of depressing news."

"You are so two-faced," Q said. "You can't have your cake and eat it too," he said. "I think it's just easier for you to claim to want information than to actually carry any burden yourself."

"And is that really so bad?" This argument made about as much sense as erecting a wax museum in the middle of the Gobi Desert, but Harry didn't care.

"It's not good." Harry continued to look moody, so Q said, "You actually think you have it hard, don't you?"

"What, you don't?"

"You want to see someone who really has it hard?" Harry hadn't noticed that the dreamscape around him was fading, until he looked around and saw that he was in a completely white void. There were no dimensions to the place… just brightness. He was clearly standing on something but he wasn't sure what. It was soft under his feet. "Now, this gentleman here, for example," Q said, gesturing to a man who had appeared next to him, "he has a terrible lot in life."

"What's the matter with him?"

"He's a slave," Q said. "Not in the sense you think of, but a slave nonetheless. He gets a constant stream of orders from the collective minds of his peers, and he's compelled to obey them… even when the orders involve killing his own friends and species." Q waved his hand, sending the man away. "See you later, Locutus," he called after the man sarcastically. "Regular time for our poker game this Thursday?"

"You're not as funny as you think you are," Harry said.

"And you're not as smart as you think you are. Things even out."

The silence that followed was tense, though it only lasted a moment. "So what's the point here? Are you going to show me everyone who's ever had it worse than I have just to give me some perspective?"

"What do you think I am, your Guardian Angel? Do you think it's my job to sit in the heavens and watch over you, then give you a guilt trip whenever you start to get out of line? I'm here for a year, and I'm hoping you won't be a complete whiner the entire time. I'm a busy being, you know. There are a lot better things I could do with my time."

"Well, I'm sorry if I'm being a bore," Harry said, "but I'm starting to loathe my life. Not everyone has your power. Not everyone can fix their lives by snapping their fingers, and some of us get depressed from time to time. That's all there is to it."

"Oh, please. You think this is depression? I've seen depression and this isn't it. This is you trying to get sympathy from your friends, or maybe just enjoying your own private pity party. Well, here's a hint. It doesn't suit you." Harry didn't say anything for a few moments, and Q apparently decided to change the subject. "You could be much more powerful than you are now," he said.

"Excuse me," Harry asked.

"You heard. I've talked to others of your species about this. Humans have the potential for far greater things than they have achieved so far. And your kind, with your unusual abilities, have something of a head start on evolution. I… could show you."

"I don't think any witch or wizard could match your abilities."

"Of course you couldn't. You'll always have to look up just to see the bottom of my shoes, but that doesn't mean you can't tower over the rest of your species."

"You sound like a Death Eater, trying to sway me to your side."

Q growled with aggravation. "Do _try _not to be so dense, won't you?" Harry turned his back to Q. "Honestly, what is it about humans that makes them incapable of seeing anything outside their frame of reference? I don't have a side. I don't have an interest in your conflict. You could all obliterate one another tomorrow, for all I care. I've got plenty of other places I can go, and I'm starting to think it's not such a bad idea. It's getting rather depressing around here."

Harry still had his back to Q. Q started to walk away, very slowly. Harry was lashing out at him, but he wasn't sure why. For once, he'd found someone who didn't mollycoddle him or, for that matter, the rest of the universe. Someone who didn't treat him like he was something special… someone who treated him just like an everyday person. Q did what he liked, said what he liked, and didn't hold anything back. When he had first appeared, he'd said that he thought he and Harry would become friends, and that was an appealing thing so far as Harry was concerned… so why was he pushing him away? If he was really honest with himself, Q was only the latest in a long string of people who had tried to help Harry and only gotten his scorn in return. If he continued on this way, he'd probably push them all away, and that thought wasn't comforting at all.

Still, he felt that his anger and depression were somewhat justified. Realistically, the sorts of things that happened to him were the kind that nobody should ever have to deal with, let alone right after one another. He started to list them again in his mind, but then one thought voiced itself and wouldn't go away… would losing his friends be another tragedy that he had to add to the list? And would it be all the more tragic because it was completely avoidable?

He'd had a lot of bad things happen to him. He wasn't going to just let another freebie get by.

"What did you want to show me?"

Q turned to find Harry now facing him, eyes ablaze. "I knew you'd come around."

"I knew you'd know."

"Did you really? Hm." Q seemed genuinely perplexed. Harry was about to ask why, but Q answered him preemptively. "Perhaps your lexicon evolves over the next few hundred years, and that's why Picard and his cronies aren't able to grasp the word 'omnipotent' when a fifteen year old boy can. That's a topic for another day, I suppose. Now. Where are we?"

Harry looked around for a clue, but the white void offered none. Of course, this was still a dream… sort of… so Harry said rather uncertainly, "My head?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, no, but we do have some lovely parting gifts for you." Harry looked apprehensive, as if he thought Q were going to kill him or leave him. "Oh, relax," he said tersely. "Don't you have game shows in the Wizard world?"

"Generally, no."

"Hm. No wonder so many of you are so boring. Anyway, let's try to go a little deeper with our answers, shall we? Now. Where are we?"

Harry thought about it harder. They were in his dream, in his mind… but that was all Harry could think to say. "I don't know," he said after a few minutes mulling it over.

"We're nowhere. That's the first thing you need to clear your mind of. Stop thinking of location as coordinates in space, or names of places, or even as points that are close to other points. Everything you perceive, you perceive through a frame of reference. If I take it away, you're useless. Ship's captains navigate by the stars, motorists use a map, and pedestrians say their favorite little bagel shop is right across the street from their favorite little coffee shop. If you continue to think about everything in terms of it's proximity to everything else, you'll never get anywhere."

Harry nodded because, in an odd way, what Q said made sense. Any time someone asked him directions, Harry gave an answer that relied on landmarks, or on knowing the names of the roads, or even, very simply, on following a line to its end. He wasn't able to define any one object or place without at least relating it to some other object or place. "I understand."

"No, you don't. You just think you do. But we can work with your intellect anyway, limited as it is."

"Oh joy, oh rapture," Harry said sarcastically.

"Human beings only have the tiniest inklings of the Multiverse in all its splendor, which is a good thing because if you ever actually did experience it your head would probably collapse into itself and become a black hole. It's not a complete loss; I know several humans with a singularity where their brain should be and they seem to be doing alright, but it tends to make one boring at parties. Or interesting at parties, depending upon your definition of 'interesting.' Personally, I think people who wear lampshades on their heads and dance on tables just come off as boorish."

"Is there a point to this story looming somewhere on the horizon?"

"The point is that the closest Humans get to experiencing reality like I do is in their dreams. And no," he said frustratedly, seeing Harry's look, "I'm not using a figure of speech to say it's extremely difficult. I mean it quite literally. In the dreamstate… that's when you get closest as a species. Of course you're still leagues away from me, but it's enough to be noticeable."

"So, who can do this? Is it the smartest people, or the ones who are in tune with nature?"

"Everyone can do it," Q said. "And I'd say it's those people you mentioned – the ones who overthink everything – who have the hardest time. Little children do it completely on their own every night. It's the most natural thing in the world. Well… your world."

"What am I supposed to do, then?"

"Tell me, since we've been here, have you even spent a moment to just be aware of your surroundings?"

"There's nothing to be aware of… it's just a void."

"Just because you can't see it, or hear it, or smell it, or feel it doesn't mean you can't sense it. Quiet your mind. Just be alert."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment. He felt this exercise was rather pointless. Q would tell him to quiet his mind, and be aware, and ask him what he was aware of. And he would speak of the heat of the place, or the sound of the wind, or some other small thing he hadn't noticed before. He'd done the exercise countless times. But he proceeded anyway, and tried to quiet his mind.

And then something happened. He _did _become aware of something. Or, more precisely, someone standing there near him. It wasn't Q. Q had moved several paces away and was watching him intently. Wait a moment, how did he know that? His eyes were shut and he hadn't heard a sound. He knew where Q and this other presence were, but he couldn't attribute that knowledge to any of his senses.

"It's invigorating, isn't it? What you're experiencing now is what it's like to be me… of course, only a millionth as strong."

"It's incredible."

"Mindality," Q said, giving the same speech he had once given Picard. The combination of mind and reality. Like Clamato—clam juice and tomato. Reality is an illusion, as subjective as anything else. You're used to your own illusion, because you've lived in it all your life, and your intellect is small enough that you can't peel the illusion away to see what's underneath. Your universe works this way. It remains immutable, until someone with sufficient power and imagination decides to change it."

"I don't understand."

"Take the people you call inventors. They think that their incredible creativity sprang from their own heads, when _really _they simply tap into mindality with sufficient strength and force to make the reality of their world match the one they've conjured in their heads. Of course, that's the example I once gave to another of your species, but it isn't a perfect one. After all, his 'inventors' still needed skill to be able to actually put their mental visions into the real world. You, on the other hand, are in a position to understand far more readily… you know what it is to have a power, and you can bring the reality from your mind directly into the multiverse."

"So, what do I do?"

"You sensed a presence before. Bring it here."

"What? How? What's the incantation?"

"There is no incantation. Have you really thought all this time that my power is that of rhymes and wands? What you perform is magic… what I hold in the palm of my hand is _power_.

"So, what do I do?"

"You simply do it. There is no how, there is no process. Just will the thing to happen."

Harry closed his eyes and screwed up his face, and tried to think about the presence with every ounce of strength he had. "It's not working," he said after a full minute of trying.

"Because you're focused on the task. Focus on the objective. You're not trying to will the objective; you're trying to will the contest."

"What?"

"I'm saying you're concentrating harder on making this diffucult than you are on just _doing _it! Focus past the wall, and the wall fails to exist. It shouldn't be hard at all and if it is, you're not doing it right."

So Harry stopped, and he was sure not to focus on the task. He focused on the presence he still felt, and simply thought, on a whim, that the being was going to be next to him. And when he opened his eyes… he was. They were still in the white void, he and Q, but there was another person there.

And the other person was Harry.

"What…"

"The Multiverse," Q said, "is more than just the universe. It's everything. It's every possibility that exists, not just the set of actions that you particularly took. This young man, for example, comes from a universe that exists just underneath and to the right of your own, which is why it's so similar to what you know."

Harry's head was beginning to hurt, so he said, "Enough for one lesson. I can hardly follow you any longer."

"Then end it. Remember, while you're here and aware that you're here, _you_ have the power."

So Harry did it. He ended the lesson, and found himself in his bed once again. Neville's bed was empty, but Harry had a feeling that if he went to the common room he would find his companion. And so it was; Q was sprawled out on one of the chairs, in front of the fire, enjoying a mug of cocoa. Something felt wrong, but Harry couldn't put his finger on it.

Apparently, Q could. "It's flat," he said.

"What?"

"That's how the world appears to you just now. Flat. One-dimensional. You had something… a glimpse of it only, but a glimpse nonetheless… and now it's gone. You're forced to rely on your four senses again."

"Five…"

"I don't think you spend much time tasting the universe. If you do, or even think you do, then you have problems that we just can't begin to go into."

"Fair enough."

"Do you see, now, why it's so difficult for me to crawl down to your level? Imagine that awareness you had a million times over, and trying to give it up. You'd be almost a cripple."

"I still don't understand how-"

"When you dream, that's as close as your species comes to tapping into the real nature of the multiverse. All humans have this power, not just those being coached by an omnipotent mentor. Have you ever realized you were dreaming, and been able to change the dream to suit your preferences? There's nothing about your brain chemistry that causes that… it's all about mindality. It happens every time you dream… usually you just aren't aware of it. But you really and truly do shape the multiverse to the vision in your head. If you as a species had more ordered minds, your dreams might not be so alarmingly disturbing."

"But, in order to tap into… mindality… and to control it, one needs to be in the dream state?"

"Or be an extraordinarily advanced being, which you are not. But, please, continue."

"So, what good is that lesson to me? Out here, I mean?"

"None whatsoever."

"So, what was the point of all that?"

"You'll find out. I promise you, though, before this year comes to a close you'll find a use for it." And Q got up and went to bed.


	6. The Study Session

**HARRY POTTER AND THE GOD OF LIES**

**CHAPTER 6**

/\

When Harry got up the next morning, the common room was deserted… except for Q. "Good morning, _mon ami_," Q said. "What are you up to this early?"

Harry held up a parchment and quill. "I've got a letter to write," he said.

"No, you haven't."

"Excuse me?"

"You already wrote it."

"No, I didn't."

"I'm quite sure you did."

"Look, Q, I am telling you that I have not put quill to parchment since-"

"I said _I'm sure you did_."

"Ah. You sent my letter before I even wrote it. Is that it?"

"No, not at all. I sent the _right _letter. You were about to send entirely the wrong one." Harry looked bewildered. "Oh, come on, this is an easy one. Think about it."

After a moment, Harry said, "The Multiverse. Every possibility plays out."

"Good. Go on."

"So… your coming here has thrown things off. And you're making sure that major events happen when they should."

"That's only part of the picture. Try to think on the larger scale."

Harry nodded. "You're making sure that things don't _change_."

"Bingo."

"What kind of changes can a letter make?"

Q reached into his robes and pulled out a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. "Here, read for yourself."

Harry took the paper and stared at the date bewildered. "This paper is from the future."

"It's incredible. I show you amazing manipulations of space and time and you're _still _astonished when I do it. Try to stick this somewhere in your mind where it's easily accessible, will you?" He spoke slowly, as if trying to make a point to a two year old. "I. Can. Do. _Anything_."

Harry didn't comment. He just looked at the paper. The news wasn't pleasant at all; Sirius had been returned to Azkaban, and several prominent members of the Order of the Phoenix had been killed; Dumbledore, Tonks, Lupin… and Arthur and Molly Weasley. "All this from a letter?"

"And from the events it sparked, yes."

"So, what was different in the letter I _should _have sent."

Q gestured towards the other two chairs, and Harry looked only to see himself and Hermione sitting there. From the glass in her hand and the disheveled mess her hair was in, Harry identified the scene as last night's conversation.

"She's horrible, yes, but . . . Harry, I think you ought to tell Dumbledore your scar hurt," Hermione was saying.

"Who's horrible," Harry asked Q.

"Umbridge. If I hadn't been here, you'd have gotten on her bad side. And you also would have thought she was being controlled by Voldemort, just like you thought I was. But I suppose that searing pain in your head was bound to hit you on the Quidditch pitch or in detention with her, now wasn't it? Maybe you should stop accusing everyone who's in your line of sight when the thing acts up."

Harry's shadow from the past continued. "I'm not bothering him with this. Like you just said, it's not a big deal. It's been hurting on and off all summer — it was just a bit worse tonight, that's all…"

"Harry, I'm sure Dumbledore would _want_ to be bothered by this-"

"Yeah, that's the only bit of me Dumbledore cares about, isn't it, my scar?"

"Interesting," Q said. "Young Harry Potter losing his temper. That seems rather like last night, actually. I suppose some things are just universal constants."

"I think I'll write and tell Sirius about it, see what he thinks-"

"Harry, you can't put something like that in a letter! Don't you remember, Moody told us to be careful what we put in writing! We just can't guarantee owls aren't being intercepted any more!"

The two shadows of the past disappeared. "That's it," Harry said. "I wanted to write Sirius, and she told me not to? I would have figured it out."

"You can fool them, Harry. You can even fool yourself. But the one person you _can't _fool is me. Your little brainiac's comments sunk in, and so, this morning, you wrote a letter in code and sent it so nobody would know who it was to or what it was about. It was really quite ingenious of you… I was surprised. Oh, incidentally, you ran into that Cho girl while you were sending it. She said something that made you quite happy… she was proud of you or thought you were cool or something. I wasn't really paying attention, but there are some people at breakfast who are waiting for you to come by and look smug. 'What are you looking so pleased about,' Ron asks. 'Quidditch later,' you reply. Got it?"

"Now, wait a moment. You've come here of your own volition, and that means you risk changing things. I'm taking your advice about the letter, but you can't tell me what to say. I'll do what I please. I learned that from you."

"Oh, well, someone's getting assertive. Very well, I shall leave you to your own devices. I have to say, I underestimated you. You really are one of the top five of your species I have ever met."

Harry was pleased about this, so much so that he didn't notice the faint sarcasm in Q's voice, and he wore a smile all the way to breakfast.

"What are you looking so pleased about," Ron asked him when he sat down.

"Hm? Oh, Quidditch later," he said, not wanting to go into the whole story. As soon as he realized what he had said, however, he rolled his eyes and grinned softly to himself. Q was in charge, and Harry had to remember it.

"Oh… yeah…" said Ron. He put down the piece of toast he was eating and took a large swig of pumpkin juice. Then he said, "I'm still a bit sore at our… new friend. I was really hoping to make it on the team."

"I know you were. I'm sorry I couldn't vote in your favor, but the way Q played… it would have looked like I was just playing favorites."

"I know, Harry. And at least we'll get the house cup for sure this year. But… well, we won't really have won it, will we?"

"We haven't actually accomplished anything since he got here," Hermione said. "Do you know, I think he's been helping us with our coursework as well?"

"Why do you say that?" Ron asked.

"Did you see how quickly you completed that transfiguration in McGonagall's class?"

"Oh," said Ron, sounding somewhat dejected, "I thought I was just improving."

"Ron, you did it faster than Professor McGonagall."

"It was just wishful thinking," he said.

"Anyway," Harry said, steering the conversation back towards Quidditch, "I'm sorry it didn't work out for you, Ron. That's why you asked your mum for the broom, wasn't it?"

Ron nodded, and Hermione's expression softened. "Oh, Ron…"

"Well, at least you two are getting on," Harry said. "I was concerned that you wouldn't be speaking by now."

"Why do you say that?" Hermione asked.

"Well… after Q said…"

"I don't pay much attention to what Q says, thank you very much," Hermione said tersely.

"Nor do I," Ron said, apparently deciding to follow her lead.

The post owls arrived, saving Hermione from further comment as she disappeared behind her _Daily Prophet_. Harry turned to Ron and said, in a somewhat hushed voice, "Why are you still acting the same way? What's the point denying how you feel?"

"Feel about what?"

"You know full well what… er… _who_ I'm talking about," Harry said.

"You don't know how I feel," Ron said.

"You had your innermost thoughts revealed by a telepathic, omnipotent being," Harry said. "That doesn't leave much room for interpretation."

"Harry…" Hermione said, drawing his attention back to her.

"What is it," Harry asked, seeing how serious she had become.

She appeared to be about to say something, stopped as if unsure how to say it, and then simply began to read. " 'The Ministry of Magic has received a tip-off from a reliable source that Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer of fifteen muggles and Peter Pettigrew, who escaped from Azkaban and has eluded capture for two years now, is currently hiding in London.' "

"Lucius Malfoy, I'll bet anything. He _did _recognize Sirius on the platform." Harry was mad, and Ron was confused.

"What? What's this about Lucius-"

"Ssh!"

"The rest is just the same old thing," Hermione said. "Harry, I'm so sorry."

Harry's friends looked ambivalent… they were sorry for this turn of events, but also seemed to be expecting another blowup. But they were moderately surprised when he said, rather calmly, "It'll be okay. He'll just have to stay in the house from now on, won't he?"

"Come on," said Ron, putting an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Let's you and I go out to the Quidditch pitch. We'll get a little game in before you have practice."

"Yeah… okay…" Harry said. Hermione didn't say a word to them as she watched them go, folding her newspaper up absentmindedly. The article about Sturgis Podmore went unnoticed.

Harry felt bad as they headed down the slope to the field, and he said so to Ron. "I'm the one who should be consoling you," he said. "You're the one who's been outed a spot on the team."

"Quidditch is a lot of fun, and I'm disappointed not to be on the team. But first of all, you and I both know that I probably would have made it if I were only stacked up against men, not Gods. But more importantly, it's just a game. I'll get on alright. This is serious about your godfather."

Ron played keeper in their practice game, and Harry tried to get balls past him. Ron played extremely well... better than he had during tryouts. Harry suspected that the fact this game didn't matter for anything played a large role in that. Perhaps he could suggest that Ron be considered as a substitute if anything should happen to 'Neville.' There wasn't much chance of that, surely, but it would at least be a good gesture.

They walked back up towards the castle for lunch, and Hermione was waiting for them in the Great Hall when they arrived.

"I've just had a thought," she said.

"Color me surprised," Ron muttered. Hermione either didn't hear him, or didn't care about what he'd said.

"What about OWLs?"

"What about them?"

"How do you expect we'll pass them?"

"I expect we'll do alright," Ron said. "We've all done well on all the homework this year, and that's meant to prepare us."

"Ronald, how thick are you? We've gotten perfect scores, but we haven't _done _anything!"

"So, what are you suggesting," Harry asked.

"I think we need to try to do some studying."

"You've seen what happens when we try," Ron said, though he didn't sound too broken up about it. "Well, when you try."

"Well, we'll just have to try harder. Harry, you've gotten close to Q. Maybe if you divert his attention Ron and I could get some work done, and then relay it back to you later."

Ron asked, "If he's been helping us with our coursework, why wouldn't he help us with the OWLs too?"

"Do you really want to put your faith in him?"

"Not really," Ron admitted.

"Well, we have Quidditch practice this afternoon," Harry said. "I guess that will keep us busy for a while."

"That's perfect. Ron and I will get started as soon as you leave."

"Hermione..."

"Ron, this is important. You haven't done any real work since you got here this year. Surely you can be bothered to devote one day to schoolwork?" Ron still looked like he wasn't relishing the idea. "Harry, please, tell him-"

"No time," Harry said, swigging the remainder of his pumpkin juice and playfully punching Ron on the shoulder as he stood. "I've got to get out to the field. Good luck, whatever you do."

Ron looked at Hermione once again, and was about to protest some more, but he saw the urgent look on her face. The upcoming exams were clearly very important to her, so he relented. "Alright," he said, sounding somewhat defeated, "let's get to it."

"I knew you'd come around. Come on, we'll go to one of the unused classrooms. He might not think to look for us out of the Common Room."

They walked out into the Entrance Hall, and Ron started to head up towards the stairs. "Where are you going?"

"Don't you need to stop by the tower to get your books and everything," he asked.

"Actually, I've already got them in the classroom."

"I see. So, for you, 'I've just had a thought' means, 'I've been thinking about this problem since you and Harry left two and a half hours ago and have taken steps to correct it already'?"

Hermione didn't say anything. She just blushed a bit as she headed towards the classroom she had selected. And indeed, it was a real Hermione-class operation that greeted Ron when he entered the room. She had brought nearly her entire library, several stacks of parchment, and a generous supply of quills. But in addition, she had amassed several objects for removing curses or charms from a variety of things. "I'm getting into my textbooks if it kills me," she said.

"And it very well might," Ron replied. "Hermione, I don't think you've really considered the bad things that could happen if we get on this guy's bad side."

"What's the worst, really?"

"Well, he could snap his fingers and wipe away the entire planet."

"There. And now you've named the worst case scenario, does it really seem so bad?"

Ron stammered a moment, and then said, "Yes! Yes, it does! Hermione, that technique works on people who are afraid of spiders or public speaking, not omnipotent beings."

"Look, if you don't want to help, then you can go. I'll do it alone."

"I _do _want to help," Ron said. "But I also want to..."

The silence got long as Ron trailed off. Hermione stopped fiddling with the books and charms and turned to face him. "What, Ron?"

"Nothing. Forget it. Just... try to open the book."

She moved towards the text, and before making her attempt shot an Imperturbable Charm at the door. She stared the book down as if it were an animal she were preparing to wrestle. She grabbed the cover and pulled hard on it… and ripped it clear off the book.

Ron winced, and looked at Hermione. She looked quite comical, he thought, holding the cover and looking at the book as if it had tricked her. He would have laughed if he didn't know how much she valued her books. "Well, at least we got to the book," he said.

"Not really. Come and have a look."

A quick flip through the pages revealed that they were completely blank. Apparently, Q wasn't going to let them revise _Basics for Beginners_ so easily.

Hermione didn't seem to be doing well with this development. She sat down on the floor with her back against the desk, and she began to weep. Ron, in turn, didn't do well with _this _development. He wasn't sure what to do. So he sat down next to her, and put his arm around her shoulder. "Hermione… don't cry… It's just a book!"

"Oh, it's not about the book, you dolt! I can't do anything anymore."

"Hey, don't do that to yourself," he said. "You can't fight against that kind of power." Ron was about to lift Hermione's head up off of his shoulder and look into her eyes, but then he noticed that Q was also sitting with his back against the desk, behind Hermione. Ron quickly forced her head back down where she had put it in the first place. He was sure that Q was the last person Hermione wanted to see just now. Well, with the possible exception of Fleur Delacour… or perhaps Voldemort. But Q was certainly in the top five. He clenched his teeth and widened his eyes at Q, the universal symbol for, 'get out of here before you make this bad!' Q just took the textbook from the desk, and handed it to Ron along with a slip of paper. Ron looked at the small note, that had the word, "Aparecium" written on it. Then he winked at Ron, and disappeared.

Ron wasn't sure whether to try the spell or not. He vaguely remembered Flitwick talking about it at one point… probably. Or maybe Lupin. But he wasn't sure what it did. Still, Hermione's tears weren't stopping, and so he decided to try his luck. He pointed his wand at the book, and shouted, "_Aparecium_!"

Immediately the book's pages sprang to life, filling with text and images. Hermione stopped crying and looked at the book. "Oh, Ron! You got it!"

"Yeah, well, it was a simple spell," he said nonchalantly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yes, but you remembered it, and used it. Thank you so much." She suddenly looked rather sheepish. "Listen, about just a moment ago…"

"We've lost time," Ron said. "I think we should get to that studying."

She smiled. "We should at that."

The evening was, after that point, a success. Hermione got quite a bit of reviewing done, and Ron could tell she was becoming more confident with each passing page. He didn't make nearly as much progress himself, however. He was far too concerned with what Q was doing. Why help Ron circumvent his plans? Would he expect some favor in return? What favor could Ron possibly do for Q? Would it be bad? Would it involve spiders?

Hermione felt good about the night, and told Harry so when she and Ron finally came back to the common room.

"How did it go," Harry asked.

"Very well," Hermione replied. "We had a rough start, but Ron did the most amazing _Aparecium _and…"

The story went on far into the night. Only Hermione, Ron thought, could talk for a full hour about a two hour study session and make it still seem somewhat interesting. Harry paid attention to most of what she said; apparently he had caught some of her OWL fever. That left Ron to his own thoughts as they sat in the small circle of chairs by the fire.

Harry had revealed to Ron some of the things that Q had shown him. And for the most part, Q had seemed content to make Harry his prodigy. He didn't seem to be branching out to the other student much… although he was improving Neville's image considerably. So, why this sudden display in Ron's favor? Not that Ron minded the assistance. He hadn't been comfortable talking about it to Harry at breakfast, but he had indeed been surprised that something had not happened between himself and Hermione ever since Q's revelation. If anything their relationship had become more shallow. That didn't make sense. If the one inhibition that really was holding them back was removed, then why weren't they more… involved yet?

One of them was going to have to say something, he supposed. And if it wasn't going to be Hermione, then it would have to be him. He made up his mind. He was resolved to doing it. Just as soon as he got a moment alone with her again.

Then he resolved that they would not have a moment alone for a long time.

"Does that sound good to you," Hermione said to him, breaking his daze.

"Uh, what? Oh, yes, sounds fine."

"Good," she said. "Tomorrow night, then. Harry will distract Q and we'll have another session."

It was more or less at this point that Ron realized he was in trouble.

The night and following day went by in a flash. Before he knew it, they were finishing up with dinner, and he and Hermione were off to study some more. They entered the same room, and Hermione put the imperturbable charm on the door again. She sat down at the desk with the book and pulled out her parchment and quill.

"Hermione…"

"Yes, what is it?" She sounded distracted.

"Hermione… I need to talk to you before we get started."

"What is it?" She was now looking up from her work at him. He came around the side of the desk and looked into her eyes.

"I think we need to talk about… about our…"

"Ron-"

"Let me finish," he said.

"No, Ron! Look out the window!"

Ron looked, and saw his brother's owl. He threw the window open, and let the poor shivering bird inside. "Percy's owl? I wonder what he's doing here at this late hour."

"Well, I suspect you'll find out once you open the letter."

Ron opened the letter and was about to read it, but changed his mind and laid it out on the table, standing shoulder to shoulder with Hermione. "We'll read it together," he said.

And read it they did. And then they both looked at one another.

Hermione asked, "Do we tell Harry?"

"He's got a right to know what people are saying about him."

"I hate to provoke him further, though," Hermione said.

"He seems to be doing better. I think we should at least let him know the gist of it. And there are a few things we need to remember."

"What?"

"Firstly, this Podmore business. There's something to that, I know there is. And secondly… my brother is a jerk." And he took the letter and tore it in two.

They found Harry in the common room, sitting alone by the fire. Ron wanted to talk to him about Hermione… about how things hadn't worked out the way he'd planned as they kept getting interrupted. And about how he wasn't sure how long he could keep up the charade that everything was fine and friendly between them. But now wasn't the time. He took the two halves of the letter and gave them to Harry to read. "I'm sorry my brother's such a git," he said. He watched Harry's expression as he read the letter. Though it was mostly neutral, he was sure that Harry was affected by the words on the page, and probably not for the better. All he could think to do was to put his arm around his friend's shoulder, consolingly.

Harry read through the letter a second time. He'd known that people thought he was out of his mind, but somehow hadn't realized it had gone this far. The other students and the Wizarding World in general were faceless. But Percy… Percy was someone Harry had known a long time, and it was strange to think of him seeing Harry in this light. But it was something he was going to have to get used to, and with his friends so near him he felt connected and accepted, even while he felt so alone.


	7. A Disturbance in Divination

**HARRY POTTER AND THE GOD OF LIES**

**CHAPTER 7**

/\

Hermione coached Harry on the little studying she and Ron had managed to do that night, but she felt as if he were distracted. Of course, it was hard not to feel that way since he had been looking away from her for the past few minutes, and was now kneeling down by the fireplace.

"What _are _you doing?" she asked.

"I think I've just seen Sirius."

"I don't think Sirius would contact you now. It's far too dangerous."

Ron suddenly jumped, not because of anything he saw in the fireplace but because he felt a hand clap down on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Q, just as Harry looked down and saw Sirius' face in the fire.

"Oh, hello!" Q said to Sirius before the older man could withdraw.

Sirius looked frightened at having been seen, but Harry quickly said, "Don't worry, Sirius. This is… Neville. He's alright."

If Hermione looked as if she had been about to say something, but she quickly shut her mouth at a meaningful glance from Q.

"Thank heavens. Harry, I got your letter."

"You wrote to Sirius anyway, even after our talk?" Hermione was incredulous. Harry had to think a moment; so far as he was concerned, Hermione hadn't talked to him at all… he had just seen a shadow of the conversation the next day. Finally, though, her meaning dawned on him.

Sirius was quicker to defend Harry than Harry himself, saying, "Don't worry, Hermione. It was very well written. Nobody would have got anything out of it." Hermione still looked skeptical, but nodded that Sirius should continue. "Harry, you said your scar hurt again."

"Yeah, it did. It was agony."

"Was anyone around at the time?"

Harry glanced over at Q. "No," he said curtly.

"That's good then. We can rule out it being caused by any one person. Well, apart from you-know-who." Ron seemed grateful that Sirius had chosen not to name the Dark Wizard. "Well, I know it's not pleasant, but I wouldn't worry. In fact, based on Dumbledore's theories, I'd say you might even take heart. It seems our... friend... wasn't having a good night."

"I suppose that's good news, is it?" Q asked, entering into the conversation for the first time.

Sirius looked at him. "We'll take small victories where we can get them."

"Well, if that's the best you can do, I suppose..." Q said, trailing off.

Changing the subject, Sirius asked, "How are you and Umbridge getting on? I head she had taken the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, but you didn't say much about her."

"Not too bad," Harry said. "She's not a great teacher, but she seems to be alright otherwise."

Sirius snorted. "Ha! Is she training you to kill half-breeds?"

"No! Why do you say that?"

"Maybe you just haven't rubbed her the wrong way yet, Little Prongs," Sirius said, "but that woman's foul. Trust me, you continue to be your charming self and she'll turn on you before long."

"Oh, I'm sure," Q said. "Maybe she'll try to curse one of us… as if the old bat had a chance."

"I'm with Sirius on this one," Hermione said. Q muttered something that might have been, 'color me surprised,' but Harry wasn't sure. "She doesn't even train us to use any magic!"

"You're just worried about your OWLs again, aren't you Hermione?" Ron asked.

"No," Sirius said, "she's right to be upset. From what we've heard, the ministry is trying to make sure you don't get any combat training."

"Combat training?" Ron asked.

"Ooh. This could be fun," Q said.

"Far from it. Fudge seems to be concerned that Dumbledore plans to seize power... through any means necessary."

Hermione shook her head, not in frustration, but in sadness. "I wonder what the world's coming to anymore," she said. "It's impossible to know who to trust. And the few people I know are trustworthy aren't even here. Sirius, do you know anything about Hagrid's whereabouts?"

He was supposed to be back by now, no one's sure what's happened to him. But Dumbledore's not worried, so don't you three get yourselves in a state; I'm sure Hagrid's fine."

"But if he was supposed to be back by now . . ." Hermione trailed off nervously.

"Madame Maxime was with him, we've been in touch with her and she says they got separated on the journey home — but there's nothing to suggest he's hurt or — well, nothing to suggest he's not perfectly OK."

Unconvinced, Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged worried looks. Q exchanged a look with his fingernails. Apparently they were more interesting to him than the conversation. "So, let me get this straight. There are, in fact, no plans to start a small army here?" His query went ignored.

"Listen, don't go asking too many questions about Hagrid... it'll just draw even more attention to the fact that he's not back and I know Dumbledore doesn't want that. Hagrid's tough, he'll be OK. Listen... when's your next Hogsmeade weekend, anyway? I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn't we? I thought I could-"

"NO!" said Harry and Hermione together, very loudly.

"Sirius, didn't you see the _Daily Prophet_ ?"

"Oh, that. They're always guessing where I am, they haven't really got a clue."

"Yeah, but we think this time they have," said Harry. "Something Malfoy said on the train made us think he knew it was you, and his father was on the platform, Sirius — you know, Lucius Malfoy — so don't come up here, whatever you do. If Malfoy recognises you again-"

Finding something of interest in the conversation once again, Q spoke up. "Let's not be hasty, now," he said. "I'm sure Harry here would just _love _to see his guardian again. Sirius can apparate somewhere out of sight, and we'll meet him there. And I'm sure we could find... some way to distract young Mr. Malfoy," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. Suddenly Sirius looked uncertain, but Q picked right up on it. "After all, in life, the challenge and the danger are what make things fun. Don't you find that, Mr. Black?"

Sirius nodded. "Aye, I do.."

"And of course, the same could be said of young Harry here." Q leaned in closer to the face in the fire. "After all, it's in his blood," he said, nearly whispering.

"You friend is right, Harry," Sirius said. "There's no way anything could go wrong. Let's do it. Owl me as soon as you know the next weekend. I'd better be off for now, though. Farewell, Ron, Hermione, Little Prongs. And, very nice to meet you, Neville."

"Oh, believe me, the pleasure's all mine."

Sirius disappeared, and Harry rounded on Q. "You be sure everything goes right," he said. "If anything happens to my godfather, I swear..."

Q held up his hands in mock surrender. "Oh, trust me, no harm shall befall him, or if it does it won't be my fault."

"What does that mean?"

"I've said too much anyway. Let's get to sleep."

Q disappeared. It was infuriating that conversations always ended when he wanted them to. "What does that mean?" Harry asked again, quietly this time.

"He won't tell us anything, Harry," Ron said. "But I _am_ knackered… let's get to sleep."

Harry and Ron climbed the stairs to the dormitory slowly. Harry was still upset by the little seed of uncertainty that Q had planted. 'No harm shall befall him, or if it does it won't be my fault.' Did that mean something was going to happen to Sirius? Sirius was the only family he had, and if something happened to him…

It wasn't worth thinking about it. Q wasn't going to tell him anything, and he couldn't prevent it by worrying about it. He fell asleep, and slept well for the first time in a long time. No scar pain, no nightmares, no dreams about locked doors, and no subconscious teachings about the nature of a multidimensional universe. All in all, it was a successful night.

/\

"I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your OWL. This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in the examination." Snape was passing back the moonstone essays. Hermione seemed rather anxious to see her grade and read her paper, probably since she had no idea what it said.

Snape reached the front of the classroom, and faced the class. "The general standard of this homework was abysmal, with a few exceptions." A sneer crossed his face as he said, "Only five students would have passed had this been the examination… Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy, and…" he actually looked as if it pained him to say it, "Mr. Potter." Harry smiled to himself as he looked at the 'O' written on the corner of his parchment. He was sure it was common for Snape to mark him and the other Gryffindors lower than they deserved. Q's work must have been exceptional for Snape not to be able to complain. Of course, Q could just as easily have written on for twelve inches about the properties of chilled pumpkin juice and just made Snape grade it like an 'O' paper, but one look at the long sentences and tiny print on the parchment suggested that he had not done that.

Snape continued. "Five points to Gryffindor," he said. "You performed well."

"For each student, of course?" 'Neville' said.

Snape looked as if he was about to round on him, but suddenly blinked and said, "Of course. That makes twenty points in all."

"Very good with the arithmetic, sir," Q said mockingly. He leaned back and put his feet up on the desk. Snape either didn't notice this, or had been reprogrammed not to care.

Nothing extraordinary happened until they reached divination class, where Umbridge was evaluating Trelawney. The divination teacher was looking over their dream diaries, and Umbridge was taking endless notes on her clipboard. Trelawney was now just a table away from Harry and Ron, and had taken Q's dream diary. She began to look it over, and Umbridge was looking at her rather oddly. Q looked at Umbridge and sneered.

"Hello, Professor Umbridge," he said.

She looked at him. Most people hadn't spoken to her much since her appointment as the High Inquisitor. "Good afternoon, Mr. Longbottom," she said, and though it was a paradox, the statement was both warm as a summer's day and cold as the vacuum of space in one moment.

Q looked her right in the eye, even though she had turned her attention back to her clipboard, and sneered even harder. "Just like Picard," he muttered. "Uptight, pretentious, thinks her blasted civility is the measuring stick by which the universe should be judged..."

"What's that, dear," Umbridge asked.

"I think," Q said loudly, "I'm having a vision."

Trelawney, for all her projected calm demeanor, dropped the dream diary and whirled to face him. "What do you see, boy," She asked.

"Well, I..." And Q suddenly became very pale. He began to tremble, and he looked as if he were going to be ill. But then, just as Harry was getting frightened, the entity turned to him and gave him a wink that, he was sure, wasn't perceived by anyone else in the room... except perhaps Ron. Then his show of nervousness was back, and he looked up into Umbridge's eyes. "I'm... I'm afraid it concerns you, ma'am."

Umbridge looked slightly disturbed for the first time since anyone at Hogwarts had seen her. If she were a skeptic about the art of the seer, it was quickly going away. "He's... making it up..." she said, and she sounded as if she were trying to convince herself of this rather than stating a hard and fast fact.

"Nonsense," Trelawney said. "He is clearly disturbed by what he's seeing. Go on, Neville," she said.

"I see the professor being... carried away. Borne to some place where... unspeakable things will happen. She's being taken... by some kind of creature... into the forest..."

Umbridge set down her clipboard and said, "I think that will do for the evaluation. I really must be preparing for my class." And she departed.

Harry caught Ron's eye and knew that Ron was thinking exactly the same as he was: they both knew that Professor Trelawney was an old fraud and had been hoping to see her put on the spot. Despite her dull classes and Sirius' warning, the hadn't found much wrong with Umbridge. She was a bit too much devoted to the rules, maybe, but she seemed to be a good person all around. Of course they knew that Hermione didn't share their views on this matter, so they were careful not to mention much to her about the events of Divination as they sat down in Defense Against the Dark Arts and were instructed to put their wands away.


End file.
